


saut dans le vide

by mywordsflyup



Series: Strangers Universe [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Falling In Love, Librarian!Dorian, Libraries, M/M, Nurse!Adaar, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5366195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t look much like the Qunari from Dorian's teenage dreams, with his kind eyes and his dimples and his claws filed down to a respectable length. But still...</p>
            </blockquote>





	saut dans le vide

**Author's Note:**

> While this is set in the world and continuity of Strangers, it's not necessary to have read that fic. It's sort of a prequel, set a couple of years before the events of Strangers.

There is a drunk elf in his library and really doesn’t have the time to deal with this. Dorian leans over the counter to peak into the children’s waiting area, just to make sure his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him, but yes, she is still there. Curled up in one of those ridiculously large bean bags they made him carry up the stairs last month.

With a sigh, he leaves his spot behind the counter and makes his way around the newspaper shelves that line one side of the waiting area. He has been against setting it up at all. Screaming children all cooped up right next to his counter while their parents vanish somewhere into the depth of the library to look for books or just 30 minutes of quiet? The thought alone is enough to give him a headache. But apparently it’s university policy now.

So far there have been more drunk students using the bean bags for naps than actual children. He doubts the dean had this in mind when she came up with the stupid idea.

Dorian kicks open the little wooden gate that’s supposed to keep children in and drunk assholes out. The elf just groans and sinks in a little deeper. At least she’s one of those “falls right asleep” drunks and not one of the “trashes the place, starts crying and then vomits on some priceless first edition” ones. Small blessings.

He nudges the bean bag with one foot but she doesn’t stir. “Despite popular opinion this is not a moteI. I know the resemblance is astonishing.” No reaction. Just for a second he considers shocking her with just a little electricity. But since the infamous _Fire Incident of ‘08_ , the use of magic inside the library has been strictly forbidden.

With another sigh, he leans down to nudge her in the shoulder but she just swats at his hand and curls deeper into the bean bag. The smell of booze is unmistakable and his chest feels uncomfortably tight. He is about to get back up when he notices the elf’s phone sticking out of the back pocket of her jeans. It seems as good an idea as any.

He chooses the first name in her contacts and leans back against the newspaper shelf as he waits for the call to connect.

“Elaria?” The voice on the other end of line is deep and pleasant. It also sounds like someone who just woke up.

“Not quite. This is her phone, however. I assume. Provided her criminal potential starts and ends with getting drunk and falling asleep in public.”

There is a shuffling sound and a low groan. “Where is she?”

“The library. If someone could come and pick her up, I’d be eternally grateful. Also less likely to call security.” He tries to remember the name from the contact list. “Adaar, is it?”

“Yes. I’m on my way. Just… don’t let her leave.”

Dorian scoffs. “I don’t think she’s going anywhere.”

“That’s what they all say.”

 

He turns up half an hour later and might just be the tallest person Dorian has ever met. Which shouldn’t be such a surprise, with the horns and the dark grey skin and whole Qunari-ness of it all. Dorian chalks it up to mere surprise and swallows around the lump in his throat. After all, it doesn’t happen every day that a giant Qunari suddenly looms over him and blocks out the sun - or rather the fluorescent overhead lights of the library.

“Excuse me,” he says in the same voice from the phone. Just a little bit more awake now. “I got a call about my friend?”

Dorian closes his book and gets up from his chair. “Yes, that was me.” He hesitates for just a moment and then extends his hand over the counter. “Dorian Pavus.”

“Moki Adaar.” His handshake is firm but with just enough restraint to make Dorian think he could probably crush his bones to dust if he set his mind to it. Which really shouldn’t make his heart race in a way that has nothing to do with fear.

“She’s in the children’s area,” he says and walks round the counter. “And hasn’t made a run for it yet.”

“I’m sorry about all of this.” Moki follows him. “We were all out celebrating and suddenly she was just gone. She does that sometimes.”

“Charming.” Dorian opens the gate and lets Moki into the children’s area. The elf is still sleeping soundly, now almost entirely swallowed up by the bean bag.

Moki sighs. “She got into the Elven studies program. Things just… got a little out of hand.”

“Sounds like an explanation,” Dorian says and folds his arms. “Not like an excuse.”

Moki looks like a kicked puppy and Dorian regrets his words immediately. He didn’t think that Qunari could look even vaguely like puppies. But here they are.

“It’s fine,” he says. “It’s not like she vomited on anything.” He has never been good at smoothing things over.

Moki gives him a pained look before crouching down next to the bean bag. “Hey, little one.” His voice is almost painfully soft. “What are you doing here? I was worried.”

At the sound of his voice she stirs a little bit and makes a small noise.

“Come on now.” He scoops her up like she weighs nothing and gets back up. She doesn’t wake up but buries her head in his shoulder and balls her hand in the fabric of his sweater. He turns around to Dorian. “I’m sorry about all of this.”

“I’ve seen worse.” Dorian feels embarrassed all of a sudden. He fully intended to make his annoyance known to whoever showed up to get the elf out of his library but now he almost wished he never called. There is a strange gentleness to everything Moki does - from the way he ducks his head in embarrassment to the way he holds the elf in his arms like something immeasurably valuable.

“Thank you for calling. And for… eh, not calling security.”

He makes a dismissive hand gesture. “Oh, they are more of a hassle than they are worth. Very loud and rude. Leaving muddy footprints all over the carpet. Tackling people to the ground in the Orlesian poetry section.”

“Oh.” For a moment, Moki just looks stumped. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face, honest and open and just completely unfair. He has dimples. What kind of Qunari has dimples? “Still… thank you.”

Dorian Pavus doesn’t blush. And he certainly doesn’t stare at Moki’s broad back as he leaves. He has some dignity after all.

 

The next day, the bean bags are free of drunk elves and Dorian spends the morning hunting down a missing book, the second volume of Aurelius of Vyrantium’s _The History of Sigils_. Some of the undergrads have the annoying habit of hiding books instead of checking them out and often much of Dorian’s workday is taken up by these fruitless searches. He finally finds the book in the Sociology section and returns to the foyer.

He almost drops the book when he comes down the winding staircase and spots the two figures waiting for him by the librarian’s counter. One tall and built like a boulder and the other small and fidgety.

“I’m afraid all our bean bags are booked for the afternoon,” he says as he walks over to them. “You know, by actual children.”

Moki turns around and gives him the same dimpling smile as the day before. He gives the elf in front of him a friendly little push that has her rolling her eyes. “Elaria wanted to apologize,” Moki says and manages to sound positively parental.

“Did she now?” Dorian puts the book down on the counter and folds his arms. Up close, awake and out of a bean bag, Elaria actually looks rather decent. She is Dalish, with pale lines of her vallaslin running over her dark skin. With her auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail, Dorian can see her long ears twitching nervously. She also wears the most impressive scowl for someone allegedly here to apologize. “Sober looks good on you,” he says and cannot help but smirk just a little bit.

Her scowl deepens but there is another discreet shove from behind and she sighs. “I’m sorry for yesterday. I did not mean to cause trouble. Thank you for calling Moki and not security.” It sounds terribly rehearsed and Dorian suddenly gets the mental image of Moki making her repeat the phrases back to him on their way over.

“We brought you cookies,” Moki says and holds up a small basket filled to the brim with large chocolate chip cookies.

“Moki made them,” Elaria says quickly. “So they are actually edible.”

Dorian stares at them, still not quite sure if this whole thing is a prank or not. “Is this something that people actually do? Bake apology-cookies?”

“He does.” Elaria shrugs. “But hey, if you don’t want them…”

“No!” It comes out too quickly and too loudly and he almost expects a librarian to shush him until he remembers that he is the librarian. So he shakes his head instead and tries not to look too embarrassed.

Elaria raised both hands in the air. “Alright then. Enjoy.” She turns to Moki. “Am I allowed to go now? I have class.”

Moki does not look old enough to have children of his own but he has definitely already mastered the look of pure disappointment. “Elaria…”

It is not that surprising to Dorian that she would have found a way to be immune to quasi-parental disappointment. She pats Moki on the arm and gives Dorian one last look that could be read as almost apologetic before stealing one of his cookies and leaving.

“I’m sorry,” Moki says when the door falls shut behind her and silence settles over the library once more. “She’s not usually this…”

“Charming?” Dorian leans against the counter.

“Brusque,” Moki corrects but his little smile takes off any edge that could have been found in the word. “It takes a while to get to know her.”

“I assume it helps if she’s awake and sober?” Dorian grins despite himself. “And not stealing one’s apology-cookies.”

“Usually.” Moki puts the basket on the counter and slides it over to Dorian. “You should try one.”

Dorian lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Now that I know you slaved in the kitchen just to atone for her sins I would feel excessively cruel to refuse.” He takes a cookie. “You didn’t seem like the manipulative type.”

He only gets a beatific smile in response. He makes a show of biting into the cookie but once he does, all pretense falls away.

It’s a good cookie. No, an excellent one. Buttery enough to almost melt on his tongue and the batter not too sweet as to overpower the chocolate chips. The chocolate itself has to be a Par Vollen import, rich and dark. He hasn’t tasted anything like it in years.

He swallows, aware of how obvious his delight must be on his face. “Consider all her sins atoned.”

There are those blighted dimples again. “I’m glad you like them.”

“That might be a slight understatement but let’s go with that.” Dorian folds his arms again, if only to keep himself from taking a second cookie immediately. “I’d still prefer it if our children’s area stayed free of drunken elves in the future.”

“I can only look out for the one elf but I will do my best.”

The silence that falls between isn’t exactly uncomfortable yet but it gives Dorian opportunity to stare, which could get very uncomfortable indeed. It has been years since he was a teenager, reading terribly cheesy romance novels at night under the covers, just a weak mage light illuminating the pages. Novels that usually featured a barrel chested Qunari on the cover, in nothing but a leather harness and vitaar. In most of them, the Qunari saved some fair maiden from certain death only to claim her as his bride afterwards. And in some of them, it wasn’t a maiden at all but a young man, trembling with desire for the forbidden - images that crept into his dreams at night and left him waking breathless and painfully hard.

In the years since then, Dorian has learned that real Qunari have precious little in common with the savage lovers in these novels. For one, they are much more likely to wear a shirt.

Dorian tries not to stare but it’s difficult with nothing to distract him. Moki doesn’t look much like the Qunari from his teenage dreams, despite his height and build. He doesn’t look like the fighting and ravaging type at all, with his kind eyes and his dimples and his claws filed down to a respectable length. Still, Dorian feels his face grow hot when he looks at Moki’s muscular arms, visible even through the dark fabric of his sweater.

“I could get you the recipe if you’d like”, Moki says and it should sound like the embarrassing filler sentence that it is but he somehow manages to make the offer seem sincere. Dimpling smile and everything.

“I’m afraid I’d burn the house down if I even tried to use the oven.” It’s an exaggeration but Moki laughs anyway.

“Then maybe I just have to keep making them for you.”

It’s flirting. Or at least Dorian is pretty sure it’s flirting. It’s difficult to tell when there is no innuendo and no coy smiles. No dark corner of some bar or sleazy club. But this is Ferelden after all. People tell him things are done differently down here.

“I had been planning to gain at least 15 pounds just to survive the Southern winter,” he says. “It’s the Fereldan fashion or so I’m told.”

Moki laughs again, a deep delightful sound. “I think I can help with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> All titles taken from alt-j's "Nara". 
> 
> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


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